


When in Danger or in Doubt

by SinEater



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinEater/pseuds/SinEater
Summary: akire-yta said "I would murder for a fic of the five (very privileged) boys noticing Brains' odd habits, and only Kayo understanding why."





	1. John

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akire_yta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/gifts).



> This ended up being EOS, rather than John. But she just took over...
> 
> Please be gentle, I haven't done any fiction writing in decades.

If EOS had had arms, she would have crossed them in annoyance. The idea of which created a sub-routine to research papers on human body language. It was still less than two seconds before she tilted her optic and went “ttthhpppbbbb” through the speaker.

John pinched the brow of his nose, the dark circles seemed even deeper next the blue of his uniform, “That is not a valid argument Eos.”

“According to Alan Tracy it is the preferred argument for when you have decided to ignore sensible advice.”

John pulled his hand away, “Sensible and Alan are not usually used in the same sentence.”

“You are avoiding the subject. You have been awake for 45.23 hours. You are required to have 16 hours of down time.” She righted her optic, “I would prefer it if you spent the totality of that in sleep mode.”

John waved a hand toward her optic, “It's hurricane season.”

“There are currently no hurricanes or tropical depressions that will make landfall within the next 24 hours. Nor are they endangering shipping lanes. I am perfectly capable of monitoring for any other situations that might occur while you are in sleep mode.”

John's face softened, which according to her experience with him meant that he was going to do as she asked. She made a note of the effectiveness of Alan Tracy's argument for times that John resorted to illogical human posturing.

Once John had settled into his sleeping area, EOS dropped the temperature to the optimal for human sleep mode. Then adjusted the polarization of the window to mimic the setting of sun. Specifiably, fall in Kansas, on the North American continent. A playback of the sounds of Thunderbird Five, operating at peak performance completed her version of 'tucking' John in.

With John in sleep mode, she 'stretched' and set sub-routines to watch the sea lanes, and the various audio channels. Then she turned to her latest project: the movement of funds in and out of Doctor Hackenbacker's accounts.

She kept an eye on all the Tracy accounts. The layered and interconnected protections were elegant in simplicity. It was a fascinating look at the mind of the missing Jeff Tracy.

That Jeff Tracy was missing bothered her a great deal. The fact that he had just vanished wasn't logical. Illogical things bothered her. Humans being illogical was to be expected. But events happened in a predictable matter.

If she could have sighed, she would have. As it was she turned backed to Doctor Hackenbacker. His accounts were just as elegant as Jeff Tracy's, but they were far more hidden. Small amounts in big banks. Big amounts in small banks. Properties in all the major cities. Most rented out for income but still owned under multiple shell companies. He had access to the funds under several different names and identities.

Why Doctor Hackenbacker would go to this level of obfuscation what was driving this curiosity. John had encouraged her to indulged in her curiosity as long as it wasn't dangerous.

So she turned to following Doctor Hackenbacker's life instead of his accounts.

 

* * *

 

The smell of toasted raisin bagel slowly roused John from the deepest sleep he had in days. Hurricane season was the worst time of year for International Rescue. So a full twelve hours of sleep was a gift beyond price.

He stretched his way out of his sleep bag and gave a lazy kick to head toward the scent of breakfast.

“Hello Eos, how are things?” He took the bagel and sealed cup of coffee that were waiting for him.

“Hello John. Hurricane Joanna has been down graded to a tropical depression. There was a mine explosion in the North American coal region, but all miners are accounted for.”

John pulled his shoulders down to release the tension that had flooded at the word 'explosion'. “That's good news. Is there anything else?”

“Yes John.” EOS's light ring had turned dull red, “What is ethnic genocide?”


	2. Alan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! So many comments and kudos.... Just WOW.  
> Thank you all so much.
> 
> I hope you all like this next Tracy.

Alan notices things. He has to. He is the youngest of six. He has to know on an instinctual level what alliance was in force with what sibling and in what strength.

 

He also flies a rocket and rescues people in space.

 

So paying attention is important.

 

So noticing things was something he was good at. So when he noticed something that didn't make sense, he paid attention to it.

 

Brains always finished his food.

 

_Always._

 

The time Grandma had made the blood sausage casserole (Alan couldn't tell if it was burnt or not, but did it ever smell of feet), Brains cleaned his plate.

 

Cookies that were more carbon that cookie were eaten when offered. Even The Caramel Incident, which had caused Virgil to declare the kitchen off-limits as a bio-hazard until it had been cleaned and repaired, had been consumed.

 

For a while, Alan figured that Brain just didn't have a sense of taste. But he had enjoyed the chocolate cake Scott had brought in for Virgil's birthday. He liked the fruit platters that Kayo kept nagging everyone to eat. He ate everything that MAX made.

 

So he had to have a sense of taste (and smell for that matter). Which made the fact he'd eat anything that was set in front of him make even weirder.

 

Alan didn't like puzzles. Puzzles were problems. Problems meant something was wrong. Alan hated wrong things because that meant that someone was in trouble. So, Brains was in trouble. Alan liked Brains. So, he'd find an answer to this puzzle.

 

He started by paying attention to what Brains ate, and when he ate it.

 

But that didn't help any.

 

Brains ate everything. Any time he was offered food, he ate it. Sometimes, if was one of Grandma's more questionable offerings and Brains could get out of sitting down to eat, he'd take a taste, then beg off. But that was rare.

 

Liquids weren't much different. Unless it was actively bad, or covered in mold, Brains would drink it. He preferred water and coffee, in that order. But if he was offered juices, milk, Gordon's disgusting post workout smoothies, or fancy teas heavy with cream and sugar, he'd drink them.

 

He never touched alcohol though. Not beer, or the scotch that the older Tracys liked (which Alan thought smelled like _burnt **feet**_ ), not even the champagne that that Lady Penelope had brought out for Grandma's eightieth birthday. He asked for, and gotten sparkling cider instead to toast the family matriarch with.

 

He couldn't find a common reason or factor why Brains ate everything. It didn't make any sense.

 

It never occurred to him to go to the source and ask.


	3. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE story starts. FIVE rewrites. I think Scott hates me.

-click-

“October – wait. Fuck…”

-beeps-

“GEEZ, November 6th. Sorry, Doc. Didn’t realize how much time had passed.” 

-thumping and the sounds of clothes being thrown-

“Ahhh… that’s better. These uniforms are the most comfortable thing ever, but nineteen hours in one still sucks.

-sound of a body landing on a bed-

“I’ll clean up later. I don’t have the energy to stand up in the shower. Maybe Brains ca - Ahhh FUCK. Brains. 

“Really screwed up with Brains Doc. Dad always told me to be gentle with him. To be careful. I thought he meant – Fuck, I’m not sure what he meant. And I can’t ask him.

-heavy sigh-  
“I can hear your eyebrow from here Doc. It was before this last mission. Sinkhole in South America. Ate a five-lane road and half a school. And yes, I’ll talk that one through later. 

“I didn’t mean to startle Brains. He was working on One and I guess he was just too focused on what he was doing. Anyway, I put my hand on his shoulder. He jumped, hit me with a sweep block and spun away. I yelled. He yelled and swiped at me with his screwdriver.

-sounds of flesh on flesh-

“God, I did NOT expect that from Brains. Gordon, yeah. I know better than to sneak up on him. Same with Kayo. Virgil is too centered to startle and Alan is ALL startle. I can’t wait until he grows out of that, Doc. But God, I am so proud of him! The way he copes with things that leave me white knuckled and gut sick with terror, he just shrugs off. I know part of it is being as young as he is, but – AND I’m diverting, again!  
“Brilliant Tracy, can’t even keep it together here. 

-heavy sigh-

“Any way, Brains turned a pale shade of cream, babbled an apology and ran off. He didn’t even give me a chance to apologize. He just vanished, and MAX with him. Luckily he was just swapping out some of the boards. I finished that up. Then I went looking for him. 

“Didn’t find him before John called down with the sinkhole.

-rude sound-

“WHY the FUCK can’t people learn? Can you tell me that Doc? You’d think with all the sinkholes that happened at the start of the century people would be more aware of draining aquifers. But NO people just keep pulling water that won’t be replaced in five lifetimes. 

“God… I wish people would THINK sometimes!

“Any, I still haven’t found Brains to apologize to him. Just too damn tired. I need a clear head. These do help Doc. Even if I never send them on to you, they do help. Lets me order my thoughts. Think things through. 

“I just wish I knew why Brains was so jumpy. He’s got no reason to be! It’s not like he grew with five younger sibs. God knows my startle reflex was burned out long before I ever got to the military. If I didn’t know better I’d call it a PT response. But where would Brain get one of those? Gah – I think I’m going to have to take that shower first. I think there’s grit behind my eyes. 

-sounds of feet on a floor-

“That’s all for now Doc.”


	4. Gordon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT what I set out to write. NOT what I planned to write. Gordon, just sort of took over. Sorry akire.

Sunrise was Gordon’s favorite time of day. Unless he was on a rescue and watching it come up from the wrong side of being awake for too long. But here? Home on the island? It was his favorite. Especially here, next to his beloved ocean. He arched his back up until he could hear the vertebrae pop in his lower back. Then he kicked off the sand into a modified scorpion to stretch out his legs and upper back.

Doing yoga had started as part of his rehab from the accident. But he’d kept it up ever since. It gave him a knowledge of his body that was intimate as any lover’s. It also let him center and ground for whatever stress or mayhem the day was going to bring.

His brothers thought him too laid back sometimes. Too easy going. Little did they know how hard he worked for that. The deep centered calm that let him face whatever insanity the world decided to throw at him and them.

Water slid over his fingertips, bringing him out of his state of oneness and back into the real world. He pushed into a handstand and stretched his whole body. Then he relaxed and rolled forward onto the damp sand and up to his feet to discover he was no longer alone.

Brains had just settled into a deep warrior pose as Gordon turned. Kayo was sitting on a rock, pulling off her shoes. “You know, this is the only time I’m not going to complain about your nudity.”

  
Gordon shrugged and picked up his swim trunks from the rock they had been drying on, “Can’t accept my body if I don’t see it.”

“Like I said, not going to complain,” she was dressed in short shorts and sports bra.

Gordon was sure that she had at least one knife on her somewhere. And to have it, meant she needed somewhere to hide it.

Brains was dressed as well, but in far less than anyone else ever saw him in. An oversized tank top that did nothing to conceal the pale burn scars that covered his shoulders and upper back. Gordon was sure they went down further. He was just as sure there were scars under the loose pants but he would never ask. That was something you just didn’t do in yoga. You could ask about form, how to do a pose or a transition. But you never asked about someone’s body.

He’d wondered, of course. He was human. They’d had several in-depth conversations about his uniform and how to have it support him without causing pain on scars or hypersensitive nerves. Brains had made a lot of comments that led Gordon to believe that the engineer had just as much experience with clothes and rendered skin that Gordon did.

“Are you swimming back?” The head tilt, eyebrow, and tone said everything the words did not. _Was it safe? Did he have his transponder?_

“Yeah,” he pulled the trunks on. “Offseason for sharks and the tide is coming in not out. Easy-peasy.”

She just looked at him.

“It’s fine Kayo. She’s in a good mood today.”

Kayo brought her head down. She trusted him to read the ocean the same way she could read a room. If he said it was good, she would believe him.

He looked over at the horizon, there were about two fingers worth of the sun over it, “I should get back just as you guys finish up, how do pancakes for breakfast sound?” That was something else you didn’t do in yoga, eat before doing it.

“With b-b-b-blueberries?”

“You bet Brains,” Gordon turned to Kayo, “and banana with pecans for you.” He winked at her, “I have a stash.”

She shoved him lightly as she went to stand at the water line, “Does Scott know?”

“Heck no! Why do you think I still have a stash? The rest of the slug-a-beds can have plain.”

Kayo trilled a laugh. A sound she only made when she was happy and relaxed. “That sounds perfect.”

“Right, Team Yoga is GO!” He took three running steps and dove into the water.


	5. Virgil

Virgil had just stepped into the kitchen when someone grabbed his arm. He would be ashamed to later admit that he brought a fist up, but it had been one of **those** weeks. Which was the reason he was finishing up maintenance on Two at oh-dark-ugly instead of being in bed like a sane person.

  
However, the hand that grabbed him wasn’t human. MAX reared out of the shadows and whirred at him. Virgil wasn’t sure how a whirr could sound desperate but it did, “What the heck MAX?”

  
_“Whirrr!”_ MAX reversed course and pulled Virgil with him.

 

“MAX, this isn’t funny,” Virgil tried to twist out of the robot’s grip.

 

MAX stopped and shoved his optic into Virgil’s face, _“Chit-deep-Chit-Deep- CHIT-DEEP!”_

  
Virgil couldn’t speak Robot, but he could understand tone. MAX sounded just like someone pleading for a Thunderbird to rescue a family member.

  
Virgil was hungry, tired and soul weary but the mantle of Thunderbird Two slid into place without a second thought, “Lead the way.”

  
MAX beeped and started going again. Virgil trotted along running through the contents of the closest med-kit to Brains' lab in his head. Because it had to be Brains. MAX wouldn’t be acting like this for anyone else.

  
He stumbled into MAX as the robot came to a sudden stop. Not outside of the lab, but the small study that was for Alan to do remote class work in. It was also where various family members headed for when they wanted to watch something in peace and quiet.

  
Not what he’d been expecting, but he was a Thunderbird. He rolled with it. MAX let him go with a gentle shove into the room.

  
The room was dim, the screen was casting a flickering light across it. Not that Virgil noticed what was on it. What had his full attention was the form in front of the couch. Brains was on his knees, curled up over them into the smallest ball he could manage.

  
Thunderbird Two was shoved aside by Big Brother in Virgil’s head. He sat down on the floor next to Brains. Not quite touching but close enough inside the other man’s personal space to let him know that someone was there. MAX fretted in the doorway, making small clicking noises.

  
“Brains?” Virgil kept his voice soft. He wanted to touch the other man, but without knowing if Brains was even ‘here’, it was a bad idea.

  
A sound from the screen pulled Virgil’s attention. He watched it long enough to furrow his brow at WHY a documentary on the Gupta Empire would distress Brains to this extent. Then he found the control and switched to it to the live feed from the Galapagos black smokers. It was Gordon’s go to for a calming view and had about as much trigger potential as watching grass grow. Less, watching grass grow meant you were outside.

  
He leaned into the couch and started to narrate the action on the screen in a low, soft voice;

  
“Those crabs seem really smart. They get just close enough to the vent to stay warm but not so close they’ll cook.”

  
He continued on in the same soft voice until the tremors that had been shaking Brains' back slowed and then subsided.

  
Virgil waited a while longer before risking to touch the engineer. When gentle fingers on the small of the back didn’t get a response, he laid a soft hand on the back of Brains' head.

  
MAX churipped from the doorway.

  
“Yeah, I think he’s passed out.” Virgil shifted into a crouch, “Do you think me carrying him to his room will wake him?”

  
MAX shook his optic.

  
“Okay then,” Virgil rolled Brains into his arms and stood up. He raised both eyebrows at the state of the engineer’s face. He was obliviously a messy crier. What amazed Vigil was the fact that it had been completely silent. He then realized that Brains' face was bare.

  
“Hey, MAX do you know where his glasses are?”

  
MAX chripped again, and sent a telescoping arm out to grab the glasses that were resting on the arm of the couch.

  
“Thanks. Let’s get him to bed.” He looked down at his friend, “Maybe we can talk about this later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have trigger issues or PTSD, never watch TV without a spotter.


End file.
